


Flower of Duscur

by dorkpatroller



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Personal Growth, Post-Game(s), Slow Burn, Softe but also bittersweet ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkpatroller/pseuds/dorkpatroller
Summary: Ashe always thought he knew exactly what he wanted, but here he is at the beginning of the rest of his life and he isn't sure which path to follow. Thankfully, Dedue asks him to join him on a task in Duscur, which not only gives him time to figure out what he wants but gives him the means to achieve it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are probably spoilers in this so please read at your own risk!

Since Dimitri was crowned, things have changed for the better in Faerghus. Tension used to hang over the country like a thick blanket. Now, for the first time since the death of King Lambert, people are finally confident again.

Ashe is confident too, although he’s still uncertain of a few things. He currently lives in Fhirdiad while he continues his training to become a knight. There have been whispers of what will happen to House Gaspard now that Lonato and Christophe are gone. A lot of those whispers have Ashe’s name scattered among them, but he’s not sure--even if he were granted the right to take over it--that he’s cut out for it. 

Or maybe he is? Something is missing. Ashe loves the time he’s spent in Fhirdiad because he’s had the opportunity to help people. He’s spent twice as much time helping build homes and distribute food and clean water than he has training… because he doesn’t want to see those kids go hungry and resort to stealing the way he did. He’s happy to say he helped build that orphanage, and although it’s sad to see the number of children who lost their parents and homes to war, he’s so glad they have a place to stay where they can be loved and watched over by people who will take good care of them. Maybe some of them will find new families, or family in one another. 

Ashe is cut out for helping people, he knows that much. He’s just unsure if leading House Gaspard would give him the ability to do that. He loves Lord Lonato desperately, after everything. He knows that Lonato loved him too and that he would have wanted Ashe or his younger siblings to feel as if they were entitled to succeed him after Christophe passed on. Or, at least, the Lonato that Ashe remembers would want that. Most people say his name with a bitter taste on their tongue, but they don’t know the whole story. How can they?

Whatever happens in the future, though, Ashe is confident it will be for the best. He’s uncertain, but he’s steady. He’ll know the right path when he sees it. So, for now, he settles on leaning against a rail and looking out over the market in Fhirdiad. The city is built on levels, and it’s one of his favorite parts of it. He likes to watch the world go by beneath him. 

“Ashe,” Dedue says. His voice is easy to recognize, even if it still causes Ashe to gasp and turn to face him. “Ah, I’ve startled you.” 

“N-No. I was lost in thought,” Ashe says. He tilts his eyes and even chin up to properly look at Dedue. He’s always been big and tall, like a wall to protect His Majesty. That’s how he would probably describe himself, anyway. Ashe isn’t sure he likes imagining that Dedue was made for nothing else because that simply isn’t true. But he’s always been confident about what his plans for his future are. Ashe can’t discredit him for that.

“I’ve come to ask you to join me on a mission,” Dedue says, straight to the point.

“A mission? To do what?” 

“The Duscur Peninsula is being restored. His Majesty is granting the people their land back, although it will stay under the ownership of Faerghus. He has asked me to go there with a team to evaluate what resources and supplies need to be sent there first, and which cities will need the most help being rebuilt.” 

“Oh! That’s wonderful!” Ashe only knows what he does about Duscur from Dedue, but he knows that those people didn’t deserve what happened to them. Those who survived were treated poorly, and even now there is still tension. It isn’t fair! They’ve more than proved that they were innocent. They deserve to have their land back. 

“Yes, I think it’s a step in the right direction,” Dedue says with a tiny smile. It’s the sort of smile that Ashe really likes. It isn’t much, but he can tell it broke through the trained, straight face Dedue usually keeps. It’s genuine. “Mercedes asked me to show her Duscur when we were at the monastery, and she has agreed to join us. I recall you once asked me the same. Will you come as well?” 

Ashe can recall when Dedue taught him about Duscur. He shared a lot of cooking techniques with him and taught him how to care for the plants, but Ashe’s favorite things were the stories he told of his family and their lifestyle. He always spoke fondly of it, and his eyes seemed far away, but happy. 

He also remembers being young and having a crush on Dedue. It was a silly thing, and nothing came of it. Ashe was never bold enough to bring it up, and thankfully no one else pointed it out if they saw him staring. Sometimes he thought Dedue might have felt the same, but it was all childish in the face of a pending war. Now they’re both grown men, and that silly crush is a thing of the past. 

His crush wasn’t the reason why he wanted to learn about Duscur, though. His friendship is what made him continue to learn more about Dedue and his life. Now that the opportunity is here, Ashe wonders if maybe this is the path he was just searching for.

Dedue clears his throat and Ashe realizes he must have drifted back into his thoughts again. “It is not necessary for you to decide right now,” he says. 

“No! No, that is, I would be honored to join you,” Ashe says. “I would love to visit Duscur, especially if it means I can do my part to help.” People still believe that Christophe was among the people who conspired to assassinate the king in the events that led to the Tragedy of Duscur. Ashe has a handful of letters indicating that wasn’t the whole truth, but the actual cause of his death was no better. It’s hard to cope with knowing that he’ll  _ never _ know the reasons behind his brother’s actions. 

“I thought you might enjoy it,” Dedue says. 

The group they travel with isn’t large at all. Ashe isn’t very familiar with any of the soldiers except for Dedue, who leads them. Ashe is on horseback, his bow strapped to his back in the event that he needs it. He thinks everyone here is hoping for a safe journey and no need for weapons, but they’ve all been burned before. 

Mercedes is driving a horse-led cart with supplies. Food, water, tents, a little convoy to keep them traveling easy. Ashe is glad she’s here, she’s the sort of spirit that can put a smile on anyone’s face. Even on a rainy day like this. 

The droplets that fall are fat and heavy but they’re scattered. Ashe wouldn’t even say that it’s properly raining, just a sprinkle that makes the ground wet and slows them down when it picks up. It’s an unpleasant rain, and Ashe hopes when they make camp that first night they’ll wake up to clear, blue skies and weather that’s better for traveling. 

When he wakes he’s greeted by thick fog and misty rain that is worse than the day before. The mist doesn’t seem bad at first, but only a few hours into traveling Ashe is shivering and soaked through to the bone. His hair is stuck to his forehead and every time the wind picks up he wonders if maybe he can convince Mercedes to give him one of the blankets from the wagon. That would just be a waste, though, it would just soak through too. 

Worse than the rain is the fog that came with it. Ashe can’t see more than ten steps in front of him, and it’s slowing them down worse than the day before. It reminds him vividly of the magical fog that the mages created during the war. It puts him on edge, and Dedue must feel the same way because he brings it up to Mercedes who assures them there’s nothing magical about it. 

The entire day is a soggy hassle, but Ashe doesn’t want to complain. No one can change the weather, and they’re going to be doing good when they finally arrive. They’ll get through this. After a short while, Dedue comes to walk alongside Ashe’s horse, and Ashe makes a point to keep her pace slow enough for him to walk comfortably. 

“You haven’t smiled all day,” Dedue says. The rain is starting to pick up, and it’s dribbling down off the ponytail he pulls his hair into. Ashe finds a smile on his face the instant Dedue says that, though. 

“Are you counting?” He asks. 

“Perhaps,” Dedue answers, seamlessly.

Ashe feels his cheeks grow slightly warm--the only warmth he’s felt all day. Still, it isn’t much warmth, and not enough to turn around his mood completely. “The rain makes me feel droopy, that’s all. How are you holding up? You’ve been walking this whole way. If you need a break we can switch. You can ride Clover for a while.” 

“I’m fine,” Dedue says. He looks up at the grey sky. “I hoped it would let up by now.” 

“I did too,” Ashe mumbles. He looks up as well, but blinks and shakes his head because a droplet falls right into his eye. By the time he’s opened his eyes again, the heavens open up and a downpour is falling over them. It’s so sudden he thinks he hears Mercedes gasp, but that’s the last thing he hears besides the whizzing of water past his ears and the thunder of it crashing on the ground. 

He pushes his bangs back out of his way and squints but between the downpour and the fog he can’t see much of anything. Then he hears a shout and realizes that Dedue was trying to talk to him this whole time, over the storm, and he couldn’t even hear it. “This way,” Dedue says a little louder. Ashe follows after him, and Mercedes leads the cart to follow behind them.

Luckily they don’t have to endure the storm for long. With the first crack of lightning across the sky the ruins of a small town are lit up. Most of it is just the bare bones of houses that once sat here. There’s a crumbling well but the wooden structure over it collapsed ages ago. Then, off to the right, there’s a bigger house that is still battered, but it’s standing. 

There’s a stable off to the side of it and even that is in good enough condition to protect the horses. Ashe works to guide Clover and Mercedes’s horse in to get dry, but after that he still finds himself lingering outside. Everyone else has gone inside to dry off. They’re all rushing to peel away the layers of soaked clothes. Mercedes and Dedue are already preparing a meal. She casts a little spell to light a fire in the fireplace and based on the pot Ashe is sure they’ll make a quick stew to help warm everyone’s bones. 

Ashe lingers in the doorway a moment longer, his attention on a rusty bell hanging off of it. This is the sort of bell a parent might use to call in their child for dinner. His eyes linger there and then drift right to the staircase. No one else has bothered to head upstairs. The roof wasn’t in the best of shape, and the upper floor probably isn’t much better… but he’s still drawn to it. So he takes slow steps up the creaky stairs until he finds himself at the end of a long hall. There are several bedrooms up here, more than he expected. Perhaps some of them were used as offices, he thinks there’s a small library as well. 

All of the rooms look fairly the same, as Ashe peaks his head in the doorways. This house has been looted for all it’s worth, but some pieces of broken furniture remain. Some rooms have water damage from the broken roof, while others seem perfectly safe and dry. The room at the very end of the hall has a bookcase with a few books still left on it.

The floors in this room are dry, and it doesn’t creak much when Ashe crosses it to reach for the books. One of them looks like a journal at first. He thinks about putting it down, it would be rude of him to read over someone’s private thoughts. But this person may not be alive any longer, and that’s what convinces him to read it anyway. Someone should, shouldn’t they? 

It isn’t a diary after all. When he flips through the pages he finds recipes. They’re not all labeled very well. Some of them say what they are in vivid detail, while others say just one word like  _ cake _ or  _ stew.  _ It’s not a cookbook, just a book of family recipes. 

The other book that’s left is familiar. Ashe used to have the very same one, he read it with his younger siblings after Lonato taught him to read. It’s a book of fairytales. It’s a little worse for the wear, but he picks it up as well… because he’s taking them. 

Is that wrong? They don’t belong to him, but he feels like someone should save them from this lost building. Maybe he can give the fairytales to a child in Fhirdiad or even Duscur, and the recipe book… Is it selfish to say he wants to read through it? No one writes down recipes to pass down just to let them go to waste on a shelf. Whoever left this book would want someone to love it the way they did. He’s sure. It makes him feel empty inside to think that their memories will just be forgotten.

He leans against the windowpane and takes a moment to look away from the books. He hugs them to his chest with one arm and instead he looks at the designs in the wood. It’s carved handsomely, there are no cracks in the seal and it hasn’t warped or swollen in its stone frame. The glass is still mostly intact, with just a thin crack dribbling water down the dusty panel. 

He hears the subtle creak of the floor and turns with a tiny gasp like he’s been caught stealing. It’s  _ not _ stealing. He’s salvaging something that deserves to be read and used! When he looks it’s just Dedue, and he sighs in a bit of relief. Dedue would think the same of these books. They’re stories that deserve to be told. 

“I keep startling you lately,” Dedue says. “You’re still in your wet clothes. What are you doing up here?” 

“I suppose I was drawn in. This house is lovely. It’s in remarkable shape! The walls and the foundation seems sturdy, and the craftsmanship is beautiful… and I was carried away looking around, I guess.” Ashe looks around the room again. It almost feels nostalgic. There’s something about this house that makes him feel like he’s been here before, but he hasn’t.

“Yes. The closer to the Duscur Peninsula we get, the more buildings you will see constructed like this. Strong foundations and reinforced walls help to keep homes from collapsing when storms come in off the sea.” Dedue looks at the books in Ashe’s hands and takes the journal. Slowly, like he’s asking permission, but it doesn’t belong to Ashe. It’s dusty and worn. 

He glances through it while Ashe pieces together that the people who lived here were from Duscur. They had to leave behind their home when it was razed, and then they had to leave this one as well when war ravaged Faerghus. 

“You’ve found something nice, here,” Dedue says as he passes back the journal. “My own mother once used some of those recipes. They’re traditional to northern parts of Duscur.” 

“You should keep it,” Ashe blurts. “When I first picked it up I didn’t know they were recipes from Duscur, but…” 

“Didn’t you ask me to teach you more about Duscur cuisine? I believe this book will be a useful tool for you. We can work through it together.” 

“Oh.” Ashe did ask him that, ages ago. And he does still want to learn. He’s also glad to hear Dedue still intends to teach him himself. It stirs up memories of being in the kitchen together at the monastery and looking up at Dedue with butterflies in his stomach. One or two of those butterflies are resurrected for a moment, but he coughs to clear them away. After all, Dedue is a good friend. “Thank you. I should get out of these clothes.” 

“Yes. Dinner is almost ready.” 

Ashe follows Dedue down the stairs with just one more wistful glance at the hallway. This place is… important. Maybe someday he’ll know why. 

After he changes, dinner is ready and he and the others gather around the fireplace to keep warm while they eat. Everyone is chatting, and Mercedes giggles every few minutes. Dedue isn’t as chatty, but he’s also not ignoring the conversation. Ashe is dissociating. He finds himself walking through his thoughts again, this time back to the books now tucked safely in his bag. Maybe if he reads over that recipe book, he might find some indication of who it belonged to. It’s heartbreaking to think about this family on the run from the only homes they had. He hopes they survived. 

Then a clap of thunder crashes near the window and Ashe, along with half of the party, gasps. Mercedes laughs first, covering her heart with her hand. “Oh, my,” She says, “I was so scared. I know it sounds childish, but this reminds me of when I was young and I would tell ghost stories with my friends.” 

“I used to do the same!” One of the other knights says. Ashe tries not to frown as much as he hates the idea of listening to ghost stories. He knows he can’t, and won’t, stop them anyway. He’s an adult now and ghosts are hardly as frightening as they were when he was young. He barely even thinks about them. A younger version of himself might have been afraid to walk around the rooms upstairs or thought they were eerie. 

He sits through the first story that the soldier tells just fine. It’s not  _ so _ bad. It’s unrealistic, certainly. He notices Dedue glance at him and he forces a pleasant smile in return, but he doesn’t feel like smiling. He also doesn’t feel as hungry anymore. 

“Oh, I’ve heard that one, but you should hear my very favorite,” Mercedes says in a softer voice. “It will be even better with the fireplace behind us.” 

That’s ominous if Ashe ever heard it, but he swallows his food and stays quiet. Mercedes tells a story of a ghost with long fingers that drag the ground and glowing red eyes. Its body is thin and hollow looking and it’s starving, always starving to eat. It eats people, of course, what sort of ghost story would it be if it didn’t? Ashe absently stirs his spoon around his bowl to try and distract himself. Mercedes goes on to say that the ghost can’t open doors or windows, so it can’t enter a person’s house  _ unless _ they have a chimney… and if the chimney flue is open, it will slide down the chimney and enter the house to eat the unlucky inhabitants. 

A cruel story to tell considering they have to leave the fire burning and they  _ have _ to leave the flue open. Ashe can’t shake the chill that runs down his spine. It’s embarrassing how shaky this makes him, but he tries to hide it by simply excusing himself. He stands up and starts to walk away to wash his bowl, but Mercedes takes it from him. “Oh! Let me. You can help get everyone’s bedrolls set up!” 

Setting up camp is something Ashe has always been good at. Maybe it came from the time when he was homeless in his life, and he had to learn to make the most of an uncomfortable situation quickly. Maybe it’s just because he has a talent for it. Either way, he nods his head. “Yes, thank you, Mercedes.” 

Except for the ghost story. No thank you for that. “Allow me to help,” Dedue says while he invites himself to unroll some of the bedrolls. Ashe doesn’t mind at all. It only takes a short while before everyone is laying down to sleep. The room isn’t that dark, the fire is low but it’s still there to make light lick across their faces. Everyone is sharing the same space in the den to fight the chill. The storm outside is still strong, and Ashe wonders if it will ever let up. 

Even when it seems everyone else is asleep, Ashe can’t. He wishes, belatedly, that he’d had the sense to position his bedroll so the fire was near his feet. Where it is now he’s faced with one of two choices. He can roll onto one side and face it, to watch diligently that no ghosts crawl down the chimney… or he can face away from it, and only pray that the ghost doesn’t arrive. He’s not sure which is the lesser of two evils, and it has him tossing and turning in a futile attempt to get comfortable. 

Maybe next time he’ll suggest they talk about embarrassing stories over dinner. Those aren’t as likely to keep him from sleeping. The next time he starts to turn back towards the fire, he gasps because Dedue reaches out and grasps his hand so he can’t. He’s just laying on the bedroll next to him. Ashe made a point to put his near him--that way if there  _ was _ a ghost he would be with… well, it’s silly but he feels like Dedue could protect him from a ghost. If anyone can fight a ghost, surely he can. 

To say he’s startled is, of course, and understatement. His eyes weren’t open yet and the feeling of being grabbed is enough to make him yelp just loud enough to be too loud. He covers his mouth with his other hand a breath later. “Dedue!” He hisses in a whisper. “You--” 

“Startled you, I know.” 

Ashe’s lips curl into a smile behind his hand, and he sighs out the tension he felt a moment ago. “I suppose,” He says in a hush. “I’m glad to see it’s just you.” 

“Opposed to what?” 

Ashe sighs again, this time warily. “It’s childish, but I’m still… on edge from the ghost stories they told earlier.” 

He expects Dedue to make a noise of understanding and assure him ghosts aren’t real. But he doesn’t. Dedue smiles ever so slightly in the dark, and his grip on Ashe’s hand is tighter. “There are no ghosts here.” 

“How can you be sure?” Ashe asks, but when Dedue smiles in the dim firelight like that, Ashe is forced to smile as well. Those gentle, tiny smiles… they get him every time. It’s hard to swallow down the butterflies--even more when he’s got such a nice hold on Ashe’s hand. 

“You will just have to take my word. In exchange for that trust, I will protect you from any ghosts. Now sleep.” 

Dedue closes his eyes and Ashe blinks his eyes closed too. It sounds a lot like he’s just assuming there isn’t a ghost, but he’s probably right. More importantly, Ashe can’t toss and turn anymore… because if he were to move, his hand might come free from Dedue’s. So instead he settles down into his blanket and finds that he’s reassured by having Dedue’s grip in his… even if there’s a place in the back of his mind screaming that if his arm is exposed like this a ghost can get to it.

Thankfully, the part of him that is comforted by his friend is stronger. 


	2. Chapter 2

By the time the sun is bright through the shattered window of the house, Ashe’s hand has slipped free from Dedue’s. In fact, when he squints his eyes open after a few attempts to wake up, Dedue is up and gone. Almost everyone, except for a soldier named Erich--he told a scary story the night before--and he’s crouched and rolling up one of the bedrolls left on the floor. 

“Mornin’,” he says.

Ashe pushes his hand through his bangs and clears his throat. “Good morning,” he echoes a moment later. “I’ve overslept..?”

“General’s orders. He said to let you sleep in if you had to. Something about only being as strong as our weakest. Anyway, now that you’re up can you help me get these rolls to the wagon?” 

Only as strong as their weakest… it’s sound logic, but Ashe hates to think that losing a few hours of sleep can make him be seen as the  _ weakest.  _ That’s hardly fair. Regardless, he gets up and rolls the last few of the beds away with Erich, and together they carry them out to the wagon to load them up. 

The weather is much better. The sun is bright and high in the sky, there are no clouds as far as the eye can see… Ashe thinks for once they’ll be traveling without damp clothes. Once he’s set the last bedroll down he looks around their group and he realizes he  _ really _ overslept. The horses are all ready to go, including his own. Someone did that  _ for _ him! 

Mercedes notices him and she wanders over to greet him. “Good morning, Ashe!” 

Mercedes is always beautiful. The sun shines with her like she can guide sunlight to those most in need. Ashe smiles at her even if he feels guilty about oversleeping. “Good morning,” He says in return. “Is there anything left I can help with?”

“I’m certain someone could use a hand… but before you do that, I must apologize. Dedue let me know that you weren’t a fan of the ghost stories last night. I’m so sorry, it slipped my mind entirely that you were afraid of them. I don’t know how I forgot… You and Annie have always been so easy to scare.” 

Ashe’s cheeks burn with a blush that comes deep from a pit of humiliation. Not entirely because Mercedes is essentially calling him a scaredy-cat--which he very well may be--but because Dedue had to  _ mother him.  _ If he told Mercedes, did he tell the others? Did Erich know the reason he let Ashe sleep in was that he was afraid of an imaginary ghost?

“Oh! Ashe, don’t look so pale. I won’t tell the others. Besides, that’s not the only thing I came over here for. Before we left I baked up some breakfast scones. I want you to have one, they’ll be stale in a few more days. Dedue helped me slice up some berries to have with it. We saved some for when you woke up.” Mercedes says. She reaches under the seat of the wagon and pulls out a napkin wrapped around what Ashe assumes then is food. She sets it in his hands and he thanks her. 

“This is all very embarrassing,” Ashe admits to her. She shakes her head and pats his hand gently. “I’m sure you think it’s nothing, but I’m perfectly capable of marching without a full night’s rest.”

“You’ve done it before,” Mercedes agrees. She hums. “But you won’t have to, today. Try to be thankful, not shy.” 

She’s right. Ashe thanks her again before he takes the time to quickly eat his breakfast. Everyone is almost ready to go, and he’s got to get caught up so he doesn’t stall them. He goes back into the house to make a sweep and ensure no belongings were left behind… but he hesitates in the big, open den. It feels sentimental here, and he just can’t rectify that sensation with logic. It’s not familiar, it can’t be. He’s never been here before. 

He hears footsteps approaching and this time he turns to greet Dedue with a still slightly shy smile. “Good morning, Dedue. You weren’t able to startle me this time.” He fiddles with his hands. That was a dumb thing to say. Then he clears his throat. “Thank you. Er, for letting me sleep in, that is. I owe you.” 

Dedue nods his head and Ashe is thankful for his brevity for once. “Are you ready to go?” He asks after a moment. Ashe looks at the house again. The curve of the railing, the fireplace, the little alcove that he can imagine was once a little reading nook, it all feels important. He nods his head. 

With a last glance, they leave the house behind.

They’re taking a north-western path from Fhirdiad towards a port town on the coast. A boat will take them across the water into Duscur. This saves them the trouble of making nearly a circle and climbing mountains just to get there. Ashe has never been this far north before, but he’s always known that northern Faerghus was a colder climate. He just didn’t know it would be this dramatically colder. He’s glad to have his horse to keep him even slightly warmer.

Mercedes vocalizes exactly what he’s thinking, though, from her seat on the cart rolling to Ashe’s side. She rubs her arms and shudders. “It’s  _ freezing!  _ I should have thought to pack a heavier coat.” 

“My apologies. I should have made certain the two of you were properly equipped for the weather.” 

“Don’t be silly, Dedue. It isn’t your job to pack our bags for us, after all.” Mercedes says. The wind picks up, and Ashe’s back stiffens. It’s like his whole body seizes for a few seconds until the breeze dies, and finally, he can breathe again. 

“Maybe we can buy heavier coats in the port town,” Ashe suggests quietly. “I’m sure we can make it until then.” 

“I will be certain to help you find something suitable,” Dedue says. Ashe smiles and tries to hide a chuckle under his breath. So dutiful, but it really isn’t his job to take care of them. Especially Ashe, not when he’s already babied him once on this trip. It isn’t the sort of babying that makes him angry, though. Ashe thinks it’s sweet of him to be so thoughtful. 

Florence is one of the knights traveling with them. She has a strong pegasus that can finally fly now that the storms have passed. She sweeps ahead of them to check for any danger but also to give them an idea of where they’re headed. Ashe can see the crest of the ocean on the horizon, so he’s not surprised when she comes down to say they’re nearly there. 

“They seem to be having a party,” Florence says as an afterthought. “Or, pardon me, a festival. I wonder why.” 

“Oh! Don’t you just love festivals?” Mercedes asks. 

“I do,” Ashe says. Why shouldn’t anyone love festivals? They’re always lively and there are all sorts of people there. “But I’m not sure what holiday they may be celebrating…” 

“If the people who live in this city are people who once resided in Duscur, then I believe they will be having a festival to celebrate the coming of the winter goddess,” Dedue answers. He walks with his hands folded behind his back, casually telling them another piece of his culture. Ashe thinks it would be nice to learn all of it. He knows Dedue doesn’t withhold it from them for any particular reason. It’s probably hard to talk about the fond memories when they’re surrounded by sorrow.

“That’s right, you told me there are several gods and goddesses in Duscur. But you think the people living here are from Duscur?” 

“It wouldn’t surprise me. This port city is the first place they could have settled after escaping.” Ashe hates to think about it, but Duscur is surrounded by mountains and water. There are very few ways that people could have escaped, and he knows the majority of Dedue’s people didn’t. “I’m sure plenty of the towns around here have been settled by people who once lived in Duscur.” 

“Yes,” Dedue says. “The winter goddess watches over the people of Duscur as we prepare for winter. She directs the snow and ice, and we pray for resources to get through the winter. The festivities are in her honor, as she is known to be a fun-loving spirit.” 

“She sounds lovely,” Mercedes says. 

…

Ashe’s steps echo while he walks down the lonely stairwell at the inn. No one is around, all the guests are at the festival. They were excited to find that there was room for them to stay, so long as they shared rooms. Ashe is so used to sharing with his siblings first, and then his friends, being alone in a room puts him on edge anyway. He isn’t keen to admit it, but he has trouble sleeping alone. 

There is a boat shipping out tomorrow morning, they made it just in time. They’ll spend the night here and leave first thing at dawn, so they really should rest and prepare, but… Ashe is certain that his comrades are out enjoying the festivities, not preparing for tomorrow. He wants to be as well, but before he can focus on enjoying anything there’s one thing on his mind: a thicker coat. 

He pulls the door open and a bell tinkles as he walks outside. Down another step off of the porch and then he walks face-first into Dedue’s chest. He startles back a step and reaches up to rub his nose. Partly because it hurt when he smooshed it against Dedue. Partly because he’s embarrassed, and it might cover the blush. “D-Dedue! This is embarrassing, I’m terribly sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Dedue says. He has that hint of a smile on his face again. “I was on my way to find you. I found a merchant here in town with a stock of winter coats. 

“Oh! You must have read my mind. Will you take me there?” 

“Of course.” 

The coat Ashe has served him well through the war. It’s long and thin enough to let him maintain a good range of motion with his arm. He hopes that the coat he finds won’t make it much harder to draw a bow, but he also prays every day that he won’t need to raise his bow in battle for a while. 

“Do you ever think you’ll return to Duscur?” Ashe asks while they walk. Most of the festivities are in the town square, but even from here Ashe can catch glimpses of children playing or people carrying paper lanterns. “Er, more permanently, I mean.” 

“For now I intend to stay at his majesty’s side.” 

Yes, of course. Ashe tucks his hands into his coat pockets and nods his head. “Is that all?” 

“All… of what?” Dedue asks. Ashe can feel him looking at him, trying to find a hint.

“It’s just that… I don’t mean to imply that’s anything less than noble,” Ashe starts. “It’s not that at all, but I’ve been thinking about my own future and wondering what the right choices might be.” 

“So you thought you would ask me my intentions?” 

“W-Well! When you phrase it like that it sounds…” Like Ashe intended to follow him. Which isn’t the case! Not likely, anyway. “No. I recall once Gilbert told me that if I wanted to be a true knight, I had to know what I want to protect. It’s clear to me that you want to protect the king.”

“You’re unclear what you desire to protect?” Dedue asks. He comes to a stop outside of the building Ashe can only assume has the coats inside. 

Ashe wants to protect the ideals that Lonato held dear. He wasn’t a bad man. He put so much good into the world, and although he wasn’t his birth father, Ashe loved him just as much as he loved his other parents. Ashe wants to protect the memory of his father’s restaurant and the way things were when he and his little siblings ran around playing under the kitchen table. They’re so far away now, those memories. He can’t remember his parent’s faces anymore, and he struggles to recall Lonato’s voice, but all of them shaped him into who he is now. He wants to keep them alive. 

Is being a knight how he’ll achieve that? It’s all he ever dreamed of. From the very first book he read of knights, he wanted to become one. Lonato allowed him to attend the Officer’s Academy despite his resentment towards the church to give Ashe the opportunity. It shouldn’t go to waste. 

It won’t! Ashe wants to become a knight and that’s all there is to it. He shakes his head and pushes his way into the door. “No, nevermind. Think nothing of it. Do you think Mercedes already found herself a more suitable coat?” 

“Perhaps. I have not seen her.” Dedue follows Ashe into the shop. All and all this is about getting in, getting a functional coat, and getting out, but when it comes to a choice between two, Ashe is a little stumped. 

There a black coat that is hemmed at the waist. It’s not as long, but it’s lined all the way through with fur. Ashe likes it, but he worries it might get too warm after a while. The other option is a sort of plum color, and Ashe isn’t sure it suits him but it might be more comfortable. It’s longer and the fur is limited to the hood and the cuffs… “I never was good for making decisions,” He mumbles. They’re both equally pricey, but that’s not surprising. He knew buying a coat would be a sizable dent in his wallet. 

“I think you should try on the purple coat,” Dedue says. Ashe hasn’t  _ tried on _ either of them, but he supposes that he should before he invests in one. He slips his arms out of his current coat and Dedue offers to hold it on his arm, so Ashe pulls the purple coat on instead. 

Oh, the reason he wasn’t trying them on is he doesn’t want to ever take it off. It’s so much warmer, and it’s still  _ soft _ because the fabric is new. He flexes and bends his arm. It doesn’t hinder his range of motion any, it’s just…

“I think the color may be a bit bold, for me.” It’s a very noble sort of purple. A rich, deep plum. It’s not particularly fancy in design, but it almost feels like it could be better suited for someone… else. 

“You shouldn’t purchase something you dislike. I think the color suits you, however. It brightens your eyes.” Dedue says. Casually, and not like he’s making more of those old butterflies kick back to life. Ashe stares at him a few seconds too long with a pink hue forming on his cheeks. “It reminds me of the greenhouse.” 

“The greenhouse,” Ashe echoes curiously, while he slips off the coat. He keeps it in his hands though, holding it like it’s supposed to ground him for however in the world it could remind Dedue of the greenhouse. 

“You told me once the violets were your favorite,” Dedue says. Yes, and Ashe recalls that. He told Dedue they were his favorite, and the next time he visited he noticed they seemed to be flourishing far more than before. He never could prove it, but he still thinks Dedue did that for him, on purpose. “The pale leaves with the dark flowers. That’s all. It reminds me of your eyes, and how they complimented the violets.” 

Well, he’s buying this coat, that’s not up for debate. If Ashe thinks about it he’s sure he can twist this into a compliment. He looks like a flower? Maybe something more organized than that. Oh, but wouldn’t it be nice if it were meant to fluster him as much as it has? It would be--

Oh. Dedue dips his head, maybe concerned. Ashe barely notices because he’s realizing something awful. That childhood crush never went away. It didn’t even recede into something smaller. It’s just as powerful as it was then, bursting him at his seams. Dedue complimented him once--and it wasn’t even technically a compliment!--and he feels weak in the knees.

He puffs out his cheeks and blows out a thin stream of air. “I suppose I’ll buy the purple one, then.” 

“Are you sure? You seemed hesitant.” 

“I’m sure,” Ashe says, and that’s all there is to it. He makes his purchase and then he balls up his lighter coat and tucks it into a bag he’s carrying: a brown, leather bag strapped over his chest. 

Outside is still chilly, but it’s much warmer with the new coat… and with the residual warmth from a hopeful fire lit in his chest that he can’t smother fast enough. It only took a little spark to reignite it, but he doesn’t have the time for it right now. They’re on a mission! 

There was a reason he never shared his feelings before, though. It’s hard to remember what it is now, when all the feelings are rushing back, but it was probably a good reason. As they approach the festival kids are running around the square, playing tag and waving sticks with twirling ribbons that flow behind them. Paper lanterns are hung between stands, and people are spooning up bowls of soup or cups of steamy drinks. Everyone seems happy, but he’s noticed one odd detail. “No one seems to be buying anything.” 

“The winter is a hard time for those who cannot afford the luxuries of others. Traditionally, this festival is a time to share what you have. I’m surprised to see so many people in this town participating…” 

“Not all of these people are from Duscur,” Ashe observes, but it brings a bright smile to his lips. “But they’re all here, celebrating together.” People who were once enemies, a decade ago! And suddenly, while Ashe watches a wrinkled old woman pass a piping hot bowl of stew to a young man, he knows he can add something new to the list of things he wants to protect. 

“This is the future of Faerghus I wish to see more of,” Dedue says. “Ah. Look.” He settles his hand against the small of Ashe’s back and gently pushes him forward. “Mercedes and the others are over there. We should join them.” 

They should--and when they arrive Mercedes lights up and pushes her half-empty mug of spicy, mulled wine into Ashe’s hands for him to taste. It’s delicious, just like she says, but all he can think about is how if the people of this town can forgive one another and move on, surely all of Faerghus can. Oh--and he thinks about how Dedue’s hand is still comfortable and warm against his back for much, much longer than it needs to be.


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning they board the ship to cross over into Duscur. Ashe has never been on a boat before in his life, so it’s a new experience. It takes him a few minutes longer than he’d like to admit to find his sea legs, but aside from a few clumsy steps he doesn’t have much trouble with it. He’s never been more thankful in his entire life to own a warm coat. The breeze that comes off the water is frigid and he can barely stand to be up on the deck at all. 

The skies are so clear out here, however, that he manages to stand on the deck anyway. He folds his arms around himself and stands on the end of the deck, looking up at the night sky. The wind wraps around him, hugs him as it tosses and turns before getting caught up in the sails. He means to tuck some of his hair behind his ear, it’s really getting too long again, but he can’t risk taking his hands out from where they’re safe and warm under his arms. His fingers might freeze right off. 

Or, that is, he couldn’t think of removing his hands until Dedue arrives. He hears the door that leads below deck open and close, and then he turns his head to see him. He glows in the starlight. Ashe has just come to terms with it. His crush is back, it never left, and he’ll have to accept that and move on--just as he did before. 

He remembers now why he couldn’t tell him in the first place: their paths seem destined to diverge. Ashe wants may become a knight or he may take over as the head of House Gaspard, but either of those things will likely lead him away from Dedue, who will stand as Dimitri’s retainer. That’s why. It’s not sad, not really. It’s just a crush but knowing they’ll part ways eventually makes it easier not to act on it. 

For now, Dedue has a mug in his hand, and it’s steamy in the cool air. Ashe turns and naturally puts out his hands when Dedue offers it to him. It’s almost too hot in his cold hands, it almost burns, but he likes the way it feels. “Thank you,” He says reflexively. He knows he’s going to burn his tongue but he takes a sip anyway, only to be surprised by the flavor. “Oh! This is…” 

“Mint. I recall it was your favorite. I added some honey for the bitterness.” Dedue looks up at the stars himself. Thank goodness, because Ashe is just caught up staring at his face and wondering how in the world he bothered to remember Ashe’s favorite tea. Eventually, he settles on turning his attention up to the stars too. 

“It’s freezing, but I couldn’t bring myself to go inside,” Ashe says to distract himself from the new warmth lingering in his chest. A warmth so prominent it settles as a dusting of pink on his ears and the bridge of his nose. He keeps the steaming mug close to his chest. The wind picks up again, but this time it breaks around Dedue and passes right over Ashe. “You didn’t have to bring me this.” 

“I wanted to. When we spoke last night about what your aspirations are… I’ve spent some time thinking about it. You said you are still deciding on what it is you want to protect?”

Ashe sighs and looks into the mug. “It’s not that. There are a lot of things I want to protect. I’ve come up with an entire list! It’s that I’m not sure… if any of those things are driving me forward. It’s why I’m so inspired by your dedication to His Majesty.” 

“I fear I have misinformed you. Though protecting His Majesty does drive me forward, it is not the  _ only _ thing. I have many other things I wish to protect. I thought perhaps hearing that might put you at ease. It is alright to have many things that shape you.” 

“Oh! What other things--er, if it’s alright to ask, that is.” 

“You,” Dedue says. Ashe nearly drops the mug. Dedue clears his throat. “That is... people like you and Mercedes. My friends. I never thought I deserved to have you in my life, but you insisted until your friendship became second nature. I am a stronger person having met you, and losing you would be detrimental.” 

Dedue can say that he means his friends over and over, but Ashe is never going to unhear him say that first  _ you.  _ When asked what drives him to be such an inspiring man, he said  _ you.  _ Sure he said something about everyone else and Mercedes after that, but… “W-Well. I can’t imagine you’ll have to worry about that, now that the war is over. Losing anyone, I mean.” 

“I would like to think so,” Dedue says. 

There’s a silence that hangs over them, but it’s far from awkward. Dedue watches the stars and Ashe takes a few sips of his tea. When he closes his eyes he can remember sharing tea with his friends, or with their professor, and he almost misses it. “This is nice,” he eventually blurts into the silence. “Spending time with you again, that is. I admit I still sometimes miss our time spent in the monastery’s kitchen or greenhouse.” 

Dedue’s attention leaves the sky, and Ashe watches his thin lips pull into a gentle, subtle smile. “Perhaps there are people still tending to the violets I grew for you.” 

“Oh.” Ashe’s breath leaves him for a moment, but he finds he’s not shocked. It’s more like the feeling when a puzzle piece finally fits into place. He’s always wondered, but here is the answer. “You did grow them for me. I’d noticed them, but I wasn’t sure…” He had hoped, that is. If he’d known that they were, in fact, for him as a teenager, maybe he would have been bolder. Back then he could have admitted his feelings a little more carefree. But then there was war, and now it’s different. Rebuilding a country is a lot of work. 

“Of course,” Dedue answers with a low, thoughtful hum. “As I said, I was surprised and happy to be treated like a friend. As a result, I was over-eager to impress you, back then. I enjoyed your company, so I suppose I thought I could earn more of it.” 

Maybe Dedue did have feelings for Ashe, too, back then. Maybe he was waiting for Ashe to notice the violets, waiting for him to ask out loud so that he could say that, yes, they were for him. Maybe it really was a missed opportunity. 

“I was impressed,” Ashe says, and his throat feels dry. He’s got tea, but he doesn’t know if he could swallow it without choking on all of these confused, stirred up feelings. “A-And I’m impressed that you remembered the tea, too.” 

“Good,” Dedue says. What does that mean? Ashe almost asks, but Dedue nods at him a silent good evening and he walks back to the door that leads below deck. It clicks shut and Ashe still hasn’t found his voice to ask him what that means.

“Wow,” He eventually croaks to himself. He’s not cold at all, anymore.

…

It only takes a few days for the boat to reach the other side of the water, having stopped at the islands between. Ashe is actually asleep when they arrive, but he wakes up to a rapid knocking on his door. He sits up in bed and rubs his head. He’s trying not to, but he yawns when he calls out “Ehrm, who is it?” 

“Ashe! It’s Mercedes, you simply must get up--hurry! You need to see the sunrise. Please! Meet me on deck.” 

He hears the sound of her footsteps running down the hall. She’s not usually so demanding, so he decides to take her word for it that this particular sunrise is important. He pushes back his blankets and dresses quickly as he can, and he walks outside while he’s still pulling his coat on. 

“Oh,” He blurts. Mercedes is leaning against the bow of the ship, a brilliant smile on her face while the sun pours over her. She’s pretty, don’t get him wrong, but the landscape is twice as beautiful. He takes quick steps to join her, his hands curling around the cool wooden rail of the ship. It takes his breath away. “This is amazing!” 

The shore is rocky, Ashe can tell from here. Beyond the coarse sand is bigger rocks, and then a small cliffside… and then flowers. There were only a few flowers from Duscur in the greenhouse. Ashe thought they were beautiful in a different sort of way. The leaves are thicker, they grow without water, and they’re not as delicate or soft as others… but a landscape painted with them, growing larger than they ever did back at the monastery, it really is gorgeous. They span as far as he can see, interrupted only by the port village on the horizon. With the sun rising behind it… Ashe has to admit, there would be no better way to see Duscur for the first time. 

“Isn’t it just wonderful?” Mercedes says. She folds her arms around herself and her pink lips form a soft sigh. “I wonder what they look like from above..? Maybe Florence would be willing to show me, later.” 

“Maybe!” Ashe nods his head. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the landscape, though. Dedue promised him a sight of those flowers growing free and wild, but this is beyond what he ever dreamed. Brightly colored leaves on thick, succulent plants… they grow in bursts and patches wherever they want without any rules or order. They’re truly wildflowers. 

“Good morning.” 

“Oh!” 

“Ah!” 

Ashe and Mercedes both are taken by surprise, but when Ashe spins around to face Dedue he has a bright grin on his face, not a look of fear. Dedue seems more taken aback by the smile he’s met with. “My apologies for startling you both.”

“Nonsense,” Mercedes says. “Good morning. We were just admiring the flowers.” 

“Good morning,” Ashe echoes, folding his arms behind his back. “It seems we’ve arrived.” 

“Yes, it appears we have. I was just searching for the two of you to inform you of that.” Dedue looks out at the flowers and that tiny smile that makes Ashe’s heart do backflips slips over his lips again. “If we continue through this city and press onward, we should arrive in the capital of Duscur, or what it has become, by tomorrow night. With the skies clear, I think it’s best to press onward.” 

“I agree,” Ashe nods his head. “The sooner we arrive the better.” The sooner they arrive, the sooner they can begin rebuilding homes that is. Ashe doesn’t know the complete logistics of it, but he’s sure that like the rest of Faerghus, Duscur will be divided into one or two territories and flourish just the same as the other parts of the kingdom. Or, perhaps it will operate as it did before, simply under the ownership of the kingdom. 

“It’s all too exciting to stop here anyway,” Mercedes agrees with that soft voice she uses. “It will be nice to stretch our legs and walk. I’m sure the horses will feel that way as well.” Yes, Ashe certainly imagines that. He’s been antsy on this boat himself, but at least he knew what they were doing and where they were going.

So they continue on. The landscape isn’t  _ endlessly  _ flowers. There are patches where there are no plants at all, and the landscape is mostly rocks and cool breezes. Cool enough that Ashe turns up his hood to the cold. No one seems keen on making camp, though. It’s been so long since they could properly walk around… but as it starts to grow darker they’re forced to. The cold only gets biting when the sun goes down. Ashe pitches tents while the others make a fire, and he’s just finishing up when Mercedes chirps from behind him. “Boo!” 

“Bah!” Ashe gasps, and when he spins around he has his hand clenched over his heart. “M-Mercedes, how long have you been standing here?” 

“Only a few moments,” She answers with a little giggle. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would startle you that much. I meant to ask you a question.” 

“A question, yes,” Ashe sucks in a slow breath to calm his nerves. “What is it?” 

“Do you think Dedue is alright?”

Ashe’s brain stutters. What could be wrong with him? He’s just working on warming up leftover food for dinner. He stands on his toes to see past her, but then he shakes his head. “He seems fine to me. Is he ill?” 

“No, no. I meant with returning to Duscur. I’ve been worried that maybe… well, that being here might stir up as many bad memories as it does good ones. But I don’t know nearly as much about him as you do, so I thought if he would confide in anyone…” 

Ashe presses his lips together in a thin line while he listens. Certainly, he understands her concerns. The first time Ashe returned to Gaspard territory after the war ended he nearly broke down--and he imagines he would still be emotional about it today. That seems like nothing compared to this. “I’m not sure what you’re asking me, Mercedes.” 

“Will you speak with him about it? Since we left you two seem so close, like you share a real connection! I would feel much better knowing you spoke with him on the matter.” Mercedes pauses what she’s saying and she covers her lips with her fingertips. “Oh, Ashe, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Wh--I’m! I’m not embarrassed!” He lies. It’s a bold lie because now that she’s called him out for it, the tiny blush on his face has grown into an ugly, splotchy red. He shrinks back and she shakes her head and swallows her smile. 

“Please, don’t worry.” 

“W-Worry?” 

“Annie and I used to gossip about you all the time, as children, you know. But your secrets are safe with me. I wouldn’t gossip with someone I couldn’t trust to keep mum.” She claps her hands together gently. “So won’t you go speak with him, Ashe? Please? I’ll take over the dinner preparations.” 

“I… Yes, I will.” He’d do anything to get away from her in that moment. He looks back over his shoulder at her while he retreats and she certainly looks innocent enough, but he thinks she just read him like a book. Maybe the only reason people didn’t say anything about his crush when he was a teenager is that they were all  _ teenagers _ and secret crushes were commonplace. Although he doesn’t remember any of  _ her _ secrets. 

He takes a few minutes to compose himself. He lets the cool air help soothe the ache from his blushing, and he looks up at the still-blooming stars in the sunset to distract himself. Mercedes… could have been talking about anything. Maybe she meant something entirely different? Before he knows it, though, Dedue is walking towards him with an unsure expression. 

“Mercedes said you wish to speak with me?” 

“Um!” Well, she certainly didn’t leave any room for small talk. He shakes his head. “Sorry. Yes, I did. I just thought about the way you smiled at the flowers, earlier, and I wondered if it was bittersweet for you.” 

“I see.” Dedue looks back at the camp… and then he holds out his hand. “Come with me.” 

Ashe looks at his hand, open and warm. His for the taking… and so he lays his hand over it and Dedue pulls him off away from the campsite. He doesn’t go far, but the more they walk the more he realizes they’re approaching a clearing in the succulents. Then, interestingly, he realizes the clearing is a small oasis. The grass surrounding it is bluish-green, but there aren’t nearly as many flowers. The soil is probably too moist for them here. Actually… “Oh. Do all of the flowers here live… off of this water?” 

“There may be more than one pond nearby, but yes. The water seeps into the earth, and that is enough for the plants here.” 

“The flowers here are all so resilient, to grow in such frosty conditions…” It’s freezing! Freezing and dry, and Ashe would imagine most plants would wilt here. 

“A flower of Duscur is strong because it has learned how to adapt. I think we as people can learn a lot from them,” Dedue says. 

“To adapt?” Ashe asks. 

Dedue nods his head. “Yes. To take the path given to us and make it the path we want to stand on.” 

Yes, Ashe thinks he could take a page from that book. His own path is still a mystery, and he’s only more confused the more he thinks about it. Maybe he should be taking more advice from flowers. Dedue sits down on the grass and Ashe doesn’t hesitate to join him there. From there they can see the dying sunlight on the horizon and the way it sprinkles pink light over the oasis. 

“When you say that we should adapt, does that… have anything to do with the way you feel about returning to Duscur now?” Ashe asks, eventually. He wraps his arms around his knees. The ground is a little chilly, but not too bad. As long as the breeze stays away they’ll be fine a little longer. 

“Duscur will never be what it once was, but I believe, like the plants, it can adapt. The people will be happy to have their land back. I cannot change what happened here, so there is no sense in dwelling on it. I am not saddened when I see a land vibrant with potential.” 

“You’re right,” Ashe says. “It may not come easy at first, but change can be a good thing. A-And there will be a lot of things that stay the same! I imagine that festival, for example.” 

“Yes.” Dedue is quiet. Ashe is too. For those few, quiet moments Ashe thinks about all the scars on Dedue’s face. Obviously, he’s been through a lot, Ashe can only begin to imagine it. It’s just that those scars are the perfect example of what he’s just said. What makes a person, a place, or even a plant strong is its ability to adapt. 

Ashe likes that. Since he was a child he’s always seen the value in, well, anything. He’s liked to see the good in someone or something, he’s liked to be optimistic. The day he met Lonato was because he saw a book that he couldn’t even read and saw the wonder in it. He thinks optimism and the ability to adapt like that go hand in hand. It makes a person agile. 

“Oh,” He murmurs as a star tumbles across the sky. “You should make a wish.” 

“Do you believe in wishing on stars?” Dedue asks. He scoots a bit closer, and Ashe’s arm is warmer when it’s bumped against his like that. It’s because of the cold that he moved closer is all, but it’s nice. 

Ashe shrugs his shoulders. “I suppose there’s no harm in it, but I’m mature enough to know that you can’t expect your wishes to come true without any work. Why. You don’t believe in it?” 

“No, I do, although not the way that people of Faerghus tend to believe. In Duscur we have a god who paints the stars in the sky, and he listens to the wishes of people. When a star falls, it’s his way of sending a star to the earth, to grant a wish he saw fit.”

“How does he choose which wishes are fit to grant?” Ashe asks. 

“He sends them to those who are unable to make their wishes come true on their own.” 

Oh. So the wishes are sent to those who need help, and the people who are strong enough to achieve their own goals are left to reach them on their own. It’s oddly just. Ashe thinks he likes that idea. If wishes were granted to just anyone, regardless of power… well, they wouldn’t be here right now. They might have died in the war. 

“There are many stories of stars who fall to earth and walk among it like humans,” Dedue says. He hesitates when Ashe yawns, but after only a second he continues. “Many of them are nothing but make-believe. A star who came to earth to love a human, for example. In most of those stories, the star has constellations written in their eyes or scattered along their face. One such story…” 

“...” For a moment, Ashe wakes up. Dedue is carrying him back to camp. He must have fallen asleep propped up against his shoulder. How embarrassing… but he’s still not properly awake to worry about it. Instead, he dozes back to sleep against his chest. He can be embarrassed in the morning. 

…

Mercedes happens to be the first one up that morning, after Ashe. She isn’t entirely ready to march, but she’s dressed and is combing her fingers through her hair to straighten it when she wanders closer to the fire and sits down across from Ashe. He’s working on heating up breakfast. The march today won’t last long, and they’ll arrive at their destination, but a good breakfast will motivate everyone. She covers her mouth to yawn but speaks through it. “Oh, good morning, Ashe,” She says. “How are you feeling? When Dedue carried you back last night I was worried you may be hurt.” 

“I-I’m fine!” 

“Well, thank the goddess for that. You look chipper as ever.” 

“Thank you, Mercedes,” Ashe says. He makes the mistake of looking her in the eye, though. There’s a glint in hers, a mischievous—yet gentle—smile on her face, and it’s like she knows. Something happened, she thinks, but Ashe has nothing to report. Nothing happened at all! Well, almost nothing. “You should have breakfast,” He says to her while he rips his gaze from hers to prepare her a plate. 

Nothing happened, but he can still hear Dedue’s heartbeat drumming in his ear.


	4. Chapter 4

Ashe’s favorite part of rebuilding is when it starts to come together. He felt the same way in Fhirdiad when he could take a step back from a new house and say that he contributed to that. He helped put up those walls and lay that brick. Learning how to build homes with the foundations that Dedue mentioned, back at that old house, is a little different… but he’s glad he’s learning. He’s glad he’s helping. 

Ashe isn’t the biggest fan of sweating and lifting, of course, but he’s capable. Besides, he  _ is _ the biggest fan of seeing people smile, and of seeing families who may have been homeless before have a new place to go. He’s happy to see that the more houses and buildings that are rebuilt, the more people are moving back. It isn’t a fast process, by any means, but it’s faster than he expects. Word travels quickly, and they’re there for several months. 

During that time they send correspondence back and forth to Fhirdiad through flying messengers. People who are trained to deliver messages safely and quickly, and to travel in tough conditions… Ashe is impressed by how swiftly they can move. Dimitri sends supplies and more people to help as needed, and he also spreads the word. The Duscur territory is being reborn, and this time it’s here to stay. 

Every day Ashe wakes up ready to help build a home or a fence, and every day another person is there to help. People who have moved into the homes join in the efforts to build more. It’s like a spark that creates a wildfire, washing through the people of Faerghus and Duscur together. There’s so much they can learn from each other, and so many values and traditions yet to be shared. Ashe wants to protect this. This feeling, this unity, this family that these people are building. It’s not just a city, but a community. They did this together. 

It’s not perfect, of course. Although a lot of the people he meets like him, talk to him, some of them don’t. Some of them hate him because he’s from the Kingdom, and although Duscur is a territory within it now that doesn’t change what happened. The Tragedy isn’t far enough away to be forgotten for sure, and certainly not forgiven. Ashe doesn’t blame them that they don’t want to talk to him--maybe something he learned early on when he met Dedue as a teenager. People will feel how they feel and you can’t take that feeling away from them. All you can do is try to coexist, and prove your own worth. 

There will be people who don’t agree with uniting Faerhgus and Duscur, it’s just a reality. And this is only just one city being rebuilt among many more that need to be restored… But this is the beginning. Right now, Ashe knows, right where his feet are planted is the beginning of something wonderful and everlasting, and he’s so happy to be a part of it. He’s so glad he came here. 

Dedue is often busy during the day. Ashe rarely sees him because he's speaking with the nobles already popping up. He meets with them, on Dimitri’s behalf, who will have ownership of what. It all goes right over Ashe’s head anyway, he doesn’t have the mind for politics. That’s most of why he doesn’t want to take over House Gaspard. No one has asked him to, yet, but he suspects it might be coming. He doesn’t want to push that on to one of his younger siblings, but he also doesn’t think he’s needed there. It’s not where his path is leading. He knows that much. 

If Dedue has a mind for politics or not, he’s learned to negotiate them well. If it’s because of his time spent at Dimitri's side or genuine interest, Ashe may never bother to ask. All he knows is that he’s busy doing the paperwork portion of this work more often than not. 

Some days Mercedes is busy too. She sometimes watches the children for the people who are helping work on construction. Some days she works with Ashe, and he’s glad to have her. Some days Dedue joins them, and they chat about old times cleaning up the monastery while they work. Sometimes it’s just Ashe and Dedue alone, like right now, and Ashe feels like the whole world around them melts. The only thing he knows how to see is Dedue lately. It’s counterintuitive, it’s hard to focus on his work, but it’s pleasant. 

They’re digging a flowerbed. This house is constructed. A family will move in soon enough. This is just a finishing touch. “His Majesty suggested we return to Fhirdiad soon. With the successes here, he believes the task can be delegated.” 

“Oh.” Ashe knows that’s true. They don’t need to stay any longer, not when they’ve already laid a foundation. More and more people will come to resettle this land, and hopefully more of Duscur’s traditions and history will be restored as well. Besides, Dedue is probably missed in the capital. He’s always been the king’s right hand. Mercedes is surely being missed as well. She’s beloved there, pouring her efforts into caring for those in need. 

Ashe doesn’t know if he’s needed there, but he has no reason not to return. It settles like a weight in his stomach though, low and heavy. Here he knows he’s standing at the beginning of something amazing, but going back there… He may be walking right into his future. His path may be taking him to Fhirdiad now, only to sway him back towards Gaspard. It’s so far away from Fhirdiad, too. He would see his friends so rarely.

Ah, well. He loves Lonato dearly. If his path is to carry on as his heir, he knows he’ll… adapt. Just like Dedue said. He’ll make the path he’s given the path he wants to walk. 

“Ashe?” Dedue asks. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ashe mumbles. “I was just lost in thought. Have you decided when it is we’ll be returning home?” Is that home? Ashe has struggled with the word for a while. Where he lived in Gaspard is home, but it feels empty and lonely. Where his siblings were raised by a local church is like home, but it’s a church. It’s not a home. His room at the monastery felt like home, but it was temporary. It will be someone else’s home when the officer’s academy is rebuilt. Dedue feels like home, though. Maybe that’s why he says that Fhirdiad is home. Is that temporary too?

Dedue shakes his head. “There’s no need to apologize. I imagine we will leave within the month. Is there something you need to take care of, first?” 

Well, telling Dedue how he feels while they’re away from the capital would be a nice start. Maybe while they’re so far away from the pressure of future and present responsibility, it would be an opportunity to explore those feelings. Then again, that would only make it harder when they inevitably parted ways. He shakes his head. “No, nothing. I’ll miss this place, though. It took some getting used to the cold, but I’ve learned to love it here.” 

There are a few moments that pass where Dedue has an oddly soft look on his face. Maybe like he’s proud of what Ashe had to say. After those seconds pass, he nods his head and smiles. “Duscur has always been a beautiful place. Perhaps we can return sometime, for a visit.” 

“You would join me?” Ashe asks. He pushes some of his bangs out of his face with the back of his gardening glove. Ideally so he won’t get dirt on his face, but he finds Dedue reaching out to rub a smudge of dirt away anyway. It happens in beautiful slow motion like it’s out of a story. He tugs his glove off so he won’t make it any worse, and then the pad of his thumb rubs carefully and precisely near the corner of Ashe’s eye. It’s the sort of gentle touch that Ashe knows he’s always had. He’s a strong man with callouses and scars but he’s gentle and giving and he has so much love to offer. To receive even this little portion of it is more than Ashe could ever ask for out loud. 

Who will be the lucky person who wins his heart, one day?

Ashe looks at the ground and clears his throat while he mumbles out a tiny thank you. “Yes,” Dedue adds after a few seconds. “If you were to visit again, I would be happy to join you. There is more to see than just this one city. I feel obligated to show you more.” 

“P-Please don’t feel obligated!” Ashe says. Dedue’s hand is still there at his face, and Ashe catches it with his own. His fingers are thin and long, not shaped exactly like Dedue’s, but they curl easily around his to make such a strong connection. The eye contact they share is tense, like nothing else in the world exists. It’s just them. Ashe barely thinks to breathe. “Really, I would hate to become a burden.” 

“Being with you isn’t a burden.” Dedue glances at where their hands are joined and the spell is broken. Ashe drops it with the quietest gasp he’s ever made. He doesn’t even know if it counts as a gasp so much as a stuttered inhale. Dedue lowers his hand and replaces his glove. “I enjoy your company.” 

“Boys?” Mercedes asks. It jolts Ashe out of the imaginary world where it’s just him and Dedue holding hands entirely.

Dedue stands up to greet her. Ashe barely manages a wave. “Yes, Mercedes,” Dedue answers. 

“Florence and Erich told me that some unsettling rumors are going around town. About a possible ambush… I know I may be overreacting, but perhaps we should investigate those further.” 

Ashe pushes himself up off of the ground when she says that. The way she’s looking down and wringing her hands betrays how worried she really is. “Who would want to ambush a brand new settlement?” he asks. 

“Well I’ve only heard speculation but the rumors suggest House Kleiman, but I really don’t know the answer to that,” Mercedes says. 

“I would not be surprised if House Kleiman intended to rebel. They were gifted these lands in recognition of their successes during the fall of Duscur,” Dedue says. “Having that land reclaimed surely feels unjust to them.” 

“Unjust?” Ashe asks, perhaps a little bitterly. “Nothing about killing the most people is a success. If anything is just, it’s that the land is being restored to its rightful owners.” Sure, at the time those people were doing what they believed was right… but knowing what they know now, that those people they killed were innocent… what right do they have to attack again? If Ashe knows anything, it’s that it can be impossible to understand someone’s true motives. 

“We shouldn’t take this sort of rumor lightly.” Dedue begins removing the gardening gloves he just put back on. “I will send a report to His Majesty at once. Perhaps we can find the source of the rumor in the meantime.” Dedue looks upset, but stern. Ashe is upset too! This isn’t just some territory to be claimed or fought over. It’s real people, with families and homes. He won’t let it go down without a fight. 

…

Although they struggle to scrape together much more information about the rumored ambush, it puts them all on edge. What could have started out as a child’s gossip has Ashe up tonight, watching the landscape turn white under gentle, light snow. He’s looking for movement--any at all. He doesn’t have to be on watch like this, no one asked him to do any scouting, but he can’t sleep anyway. He’s been feeling inside out lately, and alongside this, it’s all coming to a head. 

There’s a gentle breeze that keeps blowing the snowflakes around. They’re sticking to his hair, but they melt not even a whole second later. He rubs his arms to keep warm but it rustles the bow strapped over his shoulder. He doesn’t see much of anything, and that reassures him that he won’t have to use it… but coming out to keep watch unarmed would defeat the purpose of keeping watch at all. He has a lot on his mind, but if his impulse decision to stand guard over this city turns out to be fruitless, he’ll be relieved. 

They’ll be leaving soon. That’s what Dedue said. What if when they leave this place is attacked, and all of their work and energy will have gone to waste? Even worse, what if people get hurt? It wouldn’t make the Kingdom look good either, for them to rebuild only to allow one of their noble houses to cut it down. 

“Ashe?” 

Ashe is in the middle of chewing on the tip of his thumb, but he jumps out of his skin. Halfway through having his heart attack, he recognizes that voice as Mercedes. He exhales fast and turns to face her. “M-Mercedes. You’re out late.” 

“Boo,” She teases with a tiny giggle. “Yes, I suppose I am. I wasn’t sleeping well.” 

“That makes two of us,” Ashe says. 

“I saw your lantern… I thought it would be best to check on it. Are you standing watch?” 

“Yes.” It must make him seem like a worrywart, but he can’t shake the feeling that those rumors are more than just rumors. Now that Mercedes has admitted she can’t sleep either… well, it’s even more clear that he should be out here watching for trouble. 

“That’s very reassuring,” Mercedes hums. The wind picks up and she stands a touch closer to him to fight off the chill. “You’ve been distant lately, Ashe. Is anything on your mind?” 

“No, it’s nothing.” 

“Maybe… It’s about Dedue?” 

Honestly, Ashe isn’t that surprised she said that. It’s still embarrassing either way, of course. He shakes his head stiffly. “It’s nothing about Dedue.” Dedue is somewhat separate. He’s not the root of the problem. Or is he? Maybe it is about Dedue. “Er, well it might have something to do with him, but he’s certainly not the majority of it. I would hate to bother you with my problems anyway, Mercedes.”

“Nonsense. We’ve always been able to talk to one another, Ashe. I wouldn’t have asked you if I weren’t willing to listen. What is it that’s bothering you, really?” Her smile is sweet and rosy with the snowflakes catching on her lips. She’s a beautiful woman. If Ashe weren’t interested in men, maybe she would have won his heart? Actually, no. It’s weird to think about that. She’s always treated him like a sibling. 

Okay. What’s bothering him, he can answer that question. He’s been thinking about it for so long, but never put it into a cohesive thought. “I suppose it’s just… I thought that wanted to become a knight. I’ve thought so for so long. I wanted to be a proper knight, like the stories. I wanted to be heroic like Christophe and Lonato, and now…” 

“Now you don’t want to become a knight after all?” Mercedes prompts. 

Ashe shakes his head. “No, I think I do. I haven’t gotten that far yet. I just have so much I want to protect, and I’m not sure where to start. Maybe being a knight is what I want, but if I’m not sure what I want, how will I know what to do?” 

“Knight or not, you can protect something. And there are all sorts of knights!” Mercedes puts her hand on Ashe’s back, settled between his shoulders, and she pats it twice. “I’m afraid I haven’t given you any advice at all.” 

“That’s alright,” Ashe says. “I’m relieved to have talked about it at all. And you're right, I can protect something without being a knight too. That gives me even more to think about. I just… wish I had a sign.” 

“Perhaps the goddess will grant you a sign, then,” Mercedes hums. “Now, tell me more about Dedue.” 

“M-Mercedes,” Ashe rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing to tell!” 

“Mhmm. If you insist,” She shivers and looks back over her shoulder. “I think I’ll go back inside. Will you be alright alone?” Ashe nods his head and she turns to walk away. He turns back to look up at the night sky. Dedue taught him the names that they called some common constellations in Duscur. They aren’t all the same as the names they have in Faerghus. So Ashe makes a wish on a star for a sign, and he wonders if the god of the stars Dedue believes in, or the grace of the goddess Ashe was raised to pray to, might grant it.

…

Ashe spends several nights standing watch like that. He loses sleep over it, but he doesn’t mind. Nothing comes of it. The rumors are dying down and the town is growing calmer. Even so, Ashe can’t find it in himself to stop. His nerves make him want to stand watch anyway. So he does. He often takes Clover with him, and she keeps him warm and makes for a great listener so he can talk to a horse instead of himself. 

These nights give him a lot of time to think about what he wants. With no hint of a sign yet, he resolves himself to try and figure it out for himself. When he grows weary of thinking about his future, he thinks about Dedue. He should tell him how he feels, but he’s not sure what to say. Maybe Mercedes has advice about it. She obviously knows Ashe has those feelings, he should take up her offer on talking about it for once. 

Tonight he’s on his feet, staring at the stars again. Clover is grazing next to him, a little midnight snack he supposes. He’s only barely paying attention to her. He’s only barely paying attention to anything. Zoning out as much as he did is why he was taken by surprise. 

Ashe isn’t aware of the approaching group until an arrow grazes his leg. It misses its mark, thank goodness, only knicking the skin. Luckily, he doesn’t have an arrow lodged in the back of his leg, but that’s the end of his good luck streak. The arrow planting itself in the ground near her muzzle and the sound of shouts in the distance is enough to spook his horse, and she runs off with no loyalty to him at all. 

There goes his chance at a hasty retreat. Maybe if he’s lucky someone will be awake to hear her in the streets of town. That would be a good warning, maybe the commotion can rally a counter-attack. This is his own fault. He shouldn’t have let himself get so comfortable keeping his watch that he stopped paying attention. 

He’s paying attention now. The sound of an ambush is upon him and all he can think to do is try his best. He’s outnumbered about twenty to one, but maybe he can do something. Anything! He’s quick to jog back a few steps, duck behind a tree for some cover, and notch an arrow to shoot back towards them. 

He wouldn’t brag about it, but war molded him into quite the marksman. The first shot he makes strikes true and one of his newfound foes collapses to the ground. It’s a small success, but he’s rapidly growing more and more aware that he’s not strong enough to do this alone. He should be running. He’s probably fast enough--he’s always been quick on his feet--but with his back turned he would be at risk of being shot at again. Would he even make it far with this cut in his leg? 

He decides to notch and loose another arrow. Two down, but there are still plenty and he doesn’t have much time. A couple of the soldiers break away from the mob and advance towards him. They’re upon him quickly and with nothing else to use as a weapon, Ashe drops his arrow and swings the steel bow at the head of one of them with as much force as he can muster. 

Maybe he just took him off guard because he doesn’t even attempt to dodge it. The man is knocked back a few steps by the impact. Ashe makes a swing for his buddy too but… he stumbles back. Sharp pain, bad pain, shoots like a lightning bolt from the center of his shoulder down to his ankles and the tips of his fingers. Then the impact of something makes his world fade to black. 

…

He wakes up in more pain than he thinks he was in when he fell. His shoulder is throbbing and, “Ah!” He half-hisses half-yelps when a sharp tug is made against the arrow lodged in it. There’s pressure, but he’s not willing to open his eyes to look at what’s happening. He scrunches them closed in a tight wince instead. 

“Oh, Ashe,” Mercedes coos. He thinks she’s the one touching him, he thinks he may even be positioned with his head in her lap. “Don’t move. I’m just breaking it off. It was a clean shot.” 

It was a clean shot. That means she can push it right through, but that isn’t going to be pleasant. A snap tells him she accomplished her goal. It hurts, but at least she’s taking a break from pulling on it for a few seconds. He’s startled from that brief respite when he’s pulled forward. Another wave of white, hot pain moves through him like a tidal wave. It makes him feel sick to his stomach and dizzy. “Here, allow me.” 

Oh, it’s Dedue. Maybe Ashe knew that before he even spoke up. Even if it hurts, there’s just something about the way he cradles Ashe against his chest. He’s not really doing it to be affectionate. His voice is calm and his chest is warm and almost soothing… but the way he has one arm looped around Ashe’s lower back and the other tight--too tight--around his arms gives away that he’s pinning him. He’s holding him so he can’t struggle. 

He doesn’t have the energy to struggle anyway. Every breath he takes feels like shattered glass in his chest, so he lulls his head against Dedue while Mercedes sighs loudly behind him. He’s caught in the middle of them. He won’t open his eyes, but he knows. “Okay,” she says, “On three…” 

“Don’t count,” Ashe whispers. He doesn’t mean to whisper, it’s just such a weak sound when he forces it out of his mouth. It’s worse when someone counts. He doesn’t want the chance to brace himself for it. He feels the weight of Dedue leaning his chin against his head, and after a few seconds longer he cries out. It’s then that he’s more aware of the wound itself. Before the pain was spread out across his shoulder, but now he can feel it damp and sharp right in one spot. He’s bleeding and he’s dizzy, but he trusts these two to help him. 

Mercedes presses her palm flat against the wound and that stings too, but now that the arrow is out she can pulse white magic into his skin to help mend it. It hurts too, but in a different way. It feels like when he sits on his leg wrong and it gets tingly, but he has to walk on it anyway. It burns like tea burns the roof of his mouth. He manages, though. He doesn’t make a peep until Dedue whispers by his ear. “Remember to breathe.” 

It makes him hiccup a tiny, dry sob. Why does this one hurt so badly? He’s been shot before. He takes in a shuddering breath and then exhales it, but after a few more seconds Mercedes lowers her hand. “I think that’s enough. We can get him to a bed.” 

He doesn’t stay conscious for the rest. 

…

Ashe wakes up again and he feels heavy. Not sick, not like he’s dying--although he’s certainly still in pain--but like a weight on his shoulder is physically pinning him down. There isn’t one. He squeaks out a pained noise when he tries to sit up at first, but the second time he tries is more successful. Cautiously he pushes up on the unwounded arm and scoots ever so slightly until he isn’t flat on his back. He’s not dressed in a shirt but he does have bandages wrapped around his shoulder and they’re pinning his arm to his chest like a sling. 

The door creaks open and Ashe peers up. He’s hoping to see Dedue, absurd as it sounds. He’s aching and he doesn’t remember much, but he remembers his cheek pressed into Dedue’s chest, and the sound of his heartbeat while he held him. It isn’t Dedue, though. It’s Mercedes. He’s happy to see her, too.

“Good morning, Ashe!” She chirps. “My, I didn’t expect you to be up before noon. How are you feeling?” She sets a pitcher of water and a glass on a table, and then she walks closer to him to inspect his bandages. When she seems satisfied she steps back. 

“I’ve felt better,” Ashe admits. “It’s sore to breathe.” His shoulder is throbbing, but the weight on his chest won’t go away, even when he’s sitting up like this. 

“It’s broken,” Mercedes answers softly. She draws her finger near his chest, just floating in the air in front of his collar so she doesn’t hurt him. “I healed it up as best I can, but you’ll have to be careful with it for a few weeks. If it hurts too bad I’ll try to use more magic on it, but magic can only go so far.” 

It’s broken. Ah, that explains why it hurts so much more than any other arrow wound he’s had before. But how did an arrow break his arm? Oh, wait, he does vaguely remember being hit when he was knocked out. That must have done it. What was he even hit with? Mercedes probably doesn’t know. 

“Is… there was an ambush. Is everyone alright?” 

“Yes! Your horse barreled into town and woke the entire city. Dedue and I tried to find you at first, but we had to help the townsfolk deal with the attack. We were so worried when we spotted you out in a field...”

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Ashe sighs in relief. “Clover ran off without me. I hoped she might stir up some townsfolk… but I wasn’t able to do much to stop the attack at all. It wasn’t very strategic of me. Maybe I should have tried harder to retreat.” 

“You’re lucky to be alive!” Mercedes gasps. She steps back to pour him a glass of water, but he only takes one ship before he sets it aside. He is lucky to be alive, he can’t argue with that. He wouldn’t argue with it either--he’s glad he didn’t die. He’s glad all that came of this was a shoulder injury. It’s his drawing arm, though… he’ll be extra lucky if when it heals he can still use a bow properly. 

“Everyone in town is calling you a hero,” Mercedes goes on. “For standing watch every night, even when you didn’t need to. You let your horse run off ahead of you to warn everyone, and you tried to slow down the ambush--and you did! You saved lives, Ashe. You should be proud; there’s no need to apologize.” 

Well, he does like it when she strokes his ego like that. It turns his cheeks a little pink. “I don’t know that hero is the right word. A-And Clover was spooked, I didn’t send her ahead on purpose, I can’t take credit for that.” 

“It was very heroic. Knightly even. I’m proud of you. Dedue is as well! He’s already sent a messenger ahead to his majesty to tell him about the ambush, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he bragged about our local hero as well.” 

Oh. Would Dedue brag about him? He doesn’t seem the sort to brag in general, and Ashe really didn’t do much of anything. Still, he smiles a tiny smile, and Mercedes reflects it back to him. Then she says, “Not a single casualty, thanks to you. Oh--but the woman who managed to calm down your horse wanted to speak with you when you woke up…”

“Oh, um, alright?” Ashe asks. He can’t imagine why, but maybe something happened to Clover and she wants to tell him about it. 

That’s not what she wants to talk about at all, actually, but what that wrinkled, haggard old woman has to say to him is far more interesting. 


	5. Chapter 5

“D-Dedue, you don’t… You don’t have to,” Ashe sputters. They’re leaving. Ashe is feeling much more like himself, and he’s not nearly as sore anymore. He’s still wrapped up with his arm pinned to his chest, but Mercedes says he’ll need to keep it that way for a few days longer just to stay on the safe side. They’re going home to Fhirdiad. Ashe knew it was coming, but it’s almost sad. He’ll miss this place. This was, after all, where he realized what it truly meant to take advice from flowers. 

He was able to minimally help pack his things and load them onto that cart Mercedes will steer, but he’s been told by several people (their entire party) not to lift anything heavy yet. His bones are still healing. He thinks they’re all healed. It’s been a few weeks, and Mercedes has been working with him every day. She makes him roll his shoulder, move his arm, draw back his arm… she tells him it will keep his muscles from forgetting how to do it.

Regardless, everyone seems to want him to relax and he’s not interested in that at all. Mercedes even offered her spot on the cart! He assured her he would be fine on his own horse. He was just trying to figure out how to get up onto the horse--he’d only just placed one foot in the stirrup--when Dedue gripped him under his elbow and put his other hand on his lower back to support his balance. “I would rather spot you than see you fall.” 

Well, there’s certainly no reason to argue with that. Ashe does eventually get settled into the saddle, and he sighs happily when he does. “I can’t believe we’re really leaving,” He admits. 

“The people here will be fine on their own,” Dedue says. He looks back at the village. A whole growing city! Ashe feels like he barely contributed some days, but today he feels like he built the whole thing himself. He’s proud of it. 

Dedue’s hand slides down from his lower back and settles as a gentle grip on the saddle. Ashe glances down at him and sees that smile on his face… Dedue must be very proud, too.

..

Ashe was worried that he would feel even more withdrawn from Dedue than ever. He didn’t know what he wanted before, and combining that with being afraid of his own feelings made it feel impossible to be with him. Now Ashe knows exactly what he wants and how to achieve it. He asked for a sign and he got one, loud and clear. But knowing what he wants and knowing the challenge it poses for him hasn’t made him withdraw from Dedue at all. 

In fact, for the first time since they started this adventure, he finally feels like he understands Dedue’s feelings perfectly, too. He was so stupid to think he was the only one who felt like this. He was wasting time. Now he’s not sure how to move forward, but he doesn’t want to waste any time being flustered when he could be taking advantage of the short days they have left before Dedue takes his spot at Dimitri’s right hand again. 

They retrace their steps to get back towards the port town, to head back. They stop for the night not far from that oasis… and even though he’s used to the cold by now, Ashe still shivers when the wind brushes past his ears. He’s on his back, laying in the blue-green grass and staring up at the stars. Last time he was here Dedue told him this story, but he fell asleep. This time he reaches out and brushes the back of his fingers against Dedue’s leg.

He’s sitting up. Dedue, that is. He’s sitting next to Ashe and they were enjoying a comfortable silence. The sort of silence Ashe knows he should be filling up with a confession, but he’s just not sure how to word it. He knows where he’s going and what he wants now, but he hasn’t figured out exactly how Dedue fits into it. That might be the only thing holding him back. Maybe that’s what holds Dedue back, too? “Tell me about the shooting stars, again.”

“They are the stars sent from the heavens to grant a wish,” Dedue answers. “One of the blessings the Star God bestows.” 

“Does he have other blessings?” 

Dedue’s voice is soft when he talks about his homeland. The values he was raised with, they’ve been forgotten by most of Faerghus. Thankfully they’ll be brought back. The territory of Duscur is a phoenix, and it won’t be forgotten so easily. “He is known for boldness and positivity. He is said to impart pieces of his wisdom on people born like you.”

“Like… me?” Ashe asks. 

“People who are born with constellations on their skin,” Dedue answers. He reaches out and drags the knuckle of his index finger past Ashe’s cheek. “When we met I thought you were optimistic enough to have received that blessing, but none too bold. I’m glad that in getting closer to you, I’ve learned that I was wrong.” 

“Ha!” Ashe laughs a little too loudly. He’s freshly removed his injured arm from its sling. It’s sore, but not so sore that he can’t reach up and catch Dedue’s hand. “You think I’m a pessimist? I like to think I’m fairly realistic.” 

Dedue shakes his head. Ashe pulls on his hand and Dedue stumbles forward. He’s quick to pull his hand away so he can catch himself before he just falls right over Ashe… but while he’s there, arms on either side of Ashe’s chest under the stars, Ashe closes his eyes to ward off his own blush and wraps his arms loosely around Dedue’s neck. “I see. Then you must think I’m bold.” 

“Ashe,” Dedue says. A moment passes in silence, before Dedue sighs, softly. “I do. I believe you are bold and wise.” 

Bold and wise. Well, he’s not bold enough to open his eyes and look at Dedue. He’s surely beautiful with the starlight toppling over his brilliant hair and leaned over Ashe like this. He’s probably got a little smile on his face. Maybe he’s even a little flustered, too? Ashe can’t look, though, because he’s so embarrassed the idea of opening his eyes physically hurts. 

A bold or wise person probably wouldn’t be in this position. After another few seconds, Dedue dips his head down against Ashe’s shoulder. It’s gentle and light so as not to put weight on a healing wound. Almost like a hug, he scoops his arm, just one, underneath Ashe’s back. He pulls himself down more than he pulls Ashe up into that almost-hug.

But it’s not a hug. It’s more intimate than a hug could ever be, and the shy blush that Ashe had melts into a comfortable warmth. It travels from his cheeks down to his chest, where it wraps around his heart and reminds him that no matter what happens in the future, he can’t change that he’s in love right now. 

“Wise… I don’t know about that,” Ashe admits softly. “I’ve spent this long feeling uncertain, but maybe from now on, I’ll live up to that image you have of me. It would be nice to be blessed by the stars.” 

“You are,” Dedue answers. His voice is almost muffled against Ashe’s shoulder, and he’s speaking so low and gentle it’s therapeutic. “I can assure you of that.” 

“Dedue? I don’t think things will be the same, once we cross the water.” Ashe  _ knows _ they won’t be the same. He knows because he’s chosen his path. He’s written the next page in his story, and he’s proud of it. He just doesn’t think it’s the path Dedue is going to walk, and while he’s excited about his future, he’s afraid of that detail. 

“No one can know what the future will bring,” Dedue answers. With those words he unwinds himself from Ashe until he’s sitting in the grass just as he was before, and Ashe is staring up at the stars just as he was before. 

“Well, except that we’ll come back to Duscur, one day,” Ashe hums. He can hear Dedue chuckle under his breath. They’ll come back here again, that much is certain. 

…

“You seem different,” Mercedes says to Ashe when they’re standing out on the boat. They’ll be back on land soon enough, and then it shouldn’t take but a day or two to get to their destination. Or, well, Ashe’s destination. She folds her hands on the rail of the ship. “Did something happen?” 

He nods his head. Last time he talked with her about this, he didn’t know what he knows now. “I know what I want, now,” he says confidently. She looks at him with a smile that’s warm and cheerful. She’s waiting for him to tell her, but he shakes his head. “Not yet. I know what I want, but I don’t want to be talked out of it.” 

“Oh.” She clears her throat. “Is it something I should talk you out of?” 

“No. It’s something wonderful.” Ashe smiles out over the open water. 

“And Dedue..?” 

Ashe chuckles under his breath. She certainly does keep pressing the subject. “I love him very much,” he answers, calmly. He tries not to blush because he’s been practicing saying that to himself. He loves him. It’s not a crush and it’s not a whim. He loves him now and he’ll love him for the rest of his life, no matter where their paths take them or even if they part ways. 

He’s still a little pink when she ever so gently folds her hands together. Like she intended to clap but caught herself. Or maybe she’s bringing her hands to her lips in prayer, thanking the goddess for finally granting her the gossip she’s been asking for. Finally she speaks, barely moving her hands to do so. “Do you think your plans will include him as well?” 

Ashe looks up towards the stars that are hanging in the sky. “I hope so,” he answers, and he notices one star tumble out of the sky.

…

Without the fog surrounding it or the storms to dampen it, it’s more beautiful than Ashe even remembered. They’re nearly home to Fhirdiad. They’ve made such good time, Dedue is sure they’ll arrive tomorrow, weather permitting. It took two days to reach this house from the capital in those awful rains, but with clear skies, it shouldn’t take but one long march.

Ashe guides Clover to the stall in the little stable beside the house and he looks it over. It’s still in good shape, just like the house was. He picks up the trough from where it sits on a stand and turns it over to dump out the dusty contents. There’s that same crumbled well in the distance, but here beside the house, there’s a pump that he experimentally fiddles with. He’s relieved--and amazed--when water is easily forced out with each push of the lever. First it’s a little dirty, but it runs clear after a few seconds longer. He uses that to fill the trough for her, and he’s barely set it back down in its stand when he feels Dedue’s hand--it has to be Dedue--on his back. He nearly jumps out of his skin at the unexpected touch, but even so, he calms as soon as his brain rationalizes that it’s Dedue. His Dedue, safe and comfortable and warm.

“You should go easy on your shoulder,” Dedue says. Ah, he’s here to scold Ashe for carrying the trough of water. 

“I think it’s fine, now. Mercedes has worked hard on it.” It hasn’t bothered him to move it at all, and lifting now didn’t either. He’s never had a bone heal quickly, but he’s also never had someone dosing him with healing spells twice a day to encourage the bone to mend. He’s glad she did because he knows he’s got a lot of work ahead of him. Clover takes to the water right away, and Ashe reaches behind himself to catch Dedue’s hand in his own. Just to hold. It sounds silly even to himself to think that the spaces between his fingers were meant for Dedue’s, but it crosses his mind. Their hands fit together comfortably and easily. He pulls him outside. 

It’s not as cold anymore, now that they’re closer to Fhirdiad. It still warrants wearing a coat, of course. The sun hasn’t set yet but it’s beginning to fade. They would need to scramble to put up tents, if not for the house granting them shelter. 

Ashe can only stand here for so long before he pulls Dedue’s hand and guides him into the house. He doesn’t resist at all, not even for a moment, and so when they reach the kitchen and he seems to relax, Ashe feels a grin come over him. “Erich is cleaning the deer.” He hunted one, that is. There is a lush, forested area only a little way to the west. It’s a small forest, but Ashe isn’t surprised it houses some deer. There are probably wild turkeys or quail living there as well. 

“That gives me time to clean the kitchen,” Ashe replies. He never bothered to do this before, when they came here in the rain. They cooked their dinner on the fire in the front room. This time he pulls open the cabinets and he finds that they’re stacked full of bowls and plates that were abandoned when the family who lived here left. There’s a sink with a drain that Ashe knows will run water with a whisper of a spell. He never did master magic, but spells to activate faucets or heat water are simple enough for even children. This water takes a few seconds to run clear too, but the sink needs to be washed down anyway. He ruffles through the drawers and cabinets hoping to find a rag--and he does. He sets to work on the sink first and then wiping the counters. 

Dedue helps, once he realizes what Ashe is doing. He probably doesn’t have any logical idea of why Ashe took it upon himself to clean the kitchen, but he’s supportive of the endeavor. It’s quiet, but it’s nice to work together quietly. When Erich comes back with the cleaned meat they’ve got the countertops ready. The knives here are dull and useless, but they have their own that they’ve brought with them. 

Cooking in this kitchen is new, but cooking with Dedue is natural as always. The chopping of a knife is methodical, the sound of the fire crackling in the stove to heat the burner is soothing. Eventually, the bubbling, simmering stew on top fills the room with a spicy, savory smell. It’s the same sort of spices Ashe has been learning to cook with during his time in Duscur. They’ve really grown on him quite a bit. 

While Dedue is finishing that stew he finally speaks up. “You’re doing a lot of work to clean this kitchen, Ashe.” 

Yes, he has been. He’s pulled down bowls and washed them out, and he’s scrubbed down the cabinets while Dedue cooked as well. So now he takes a moment to look at his hands, red from cleaning, and then back at Dedue. “Yes, well, I was meaning to tell you something.” 

“There is something I need to tell you, as well.” Dedue places the lid on the pot and folds his hands behind his back. “I think I should go first.” 

Oh. Well, Ashe doesn’t disagree. If Dedue has something to say he should just say it. He nods his head and Dedue continues. “The messenger from His Majesty arrived today.” He hesitates and looks around the room, like maybe talking about the king is informal in a sort of dusty kitchen. Ashe wishes he would just move along. Dedue is always to the point. Sometimes it can be embarrassing to have someone speak so directly, but it’s also a relief. Ashe prefers it because the alternative is dwelling on the underlying meaning of his words, or in this case his hesitation. 

Dedue clears his throat. “As recognition for your deeds in both patrolling and protecting the citizens of Duscur, as well as your heroism displayed alongside him in the war, he would like to invite you to serve as a knight in his personal care.” 

A knight in his personal care. Ashe’s head buzzes like maybe there’s a fly trapped inside, trying to get out and pushing against all the corners of his brain. Some of the corners are screaming in excitement and joy. He’s waited his entire life to become a knight, but King Dimitri is offering him a position as one of his personal retainers--an honor higher than he could have ever hoped for. Then there’s another corner of his brain screaming that it’s too late. He’s already chosen his path; it’s not standing at Dimitri’s side. Then again, another part of him still points out that if he were to serve as Dimitri’s retainer… he would no doubt be working with Dedue on a daily basis. They could be together. 

“I-I,” He sputters. His voice is too high when he repeats it back as a question. “Really?” 

Dedue’s tiny smile is a little wider right now. He holds out his palms face up. Ashe looks down and realizes he’s asking Ashe to put his hands in his. As soon as he does Dedue’s hands curl around Ashe’s. His thumbs brush slowly, lovingly, against Ashe’s wrists. “Since we were students I have thought you displayed the finer qualities of a knight. You are open-hearted and empathetic, something so few of us are strong enough to be, in this world. You use that strength to tread the path you know is right. It should come as no surprise that you have my highest recommendation to serve alongside His Majesty.”

Dedue’s recommendation may be why Dimitri offered him a place at his side and not simply in his army. “Dedue…” Ashe looks at where their hands are joined. He imagines, for a moment, ribbons. Braided cords of light blue, pink, and gold tied around them. It’s such an outrageous moment to fantasize about such a thing. He sucks in a slow breath and holds it until it burns and the image is pushed to the back of his mind. “Dedue, I appreciate this more than you could imagine…” 

His heart hammers against his chest in a way he didn’t expect. Is this mourning? It shouldn’t be. He made his choice and he’s happy with it. But maybe it’s still alright to mourn the path he didn’t follow, for just a little while. Dedue tilts his head ever so slightly to the side. “But..?” 

“I’m… not going back to Fhirdiad. What I was going to tell you is that I finally decided what exactly I want to protect. It’s you. You, and me, and the memories of your family and mine, and of your culture and the friends that we made in Duscur, and this  _ house _ . This is what I’m supposed to protect.” 

He’s expecting Dedue’s hands to slacken in his hold, he’s even braced himself for it. He’s prepared the mental image of the cords falling away in pieces. That doesn’t happen. He squeezes, gently, and Ashe feels his shoulders fall two inches as the tension falls away. He’s not in trouble, his mind realizes. Dedue doesn’t look upset, he doesn’t look mad, if anything he looks curious. “This house?” 

“I met the old woman who lived here. Her son built it, and she lived with him and his family. The book--that recipe book--she found it. She was the one who found Clover the night of the ambush, and it fell out of the saddlebag when she was thrashing around. So when I woke up, she asked me why I had her book. I told her why I took it,” It was humiliating. He felt like he’d been caught stealing all over again, but he can still remember her wrinkled smile. “She asked me to keep it. A-And she told me…” 

He laughs because he’s suddenly nervous. He feels like he has to rush just to say everything he wants to say before Dedue can talk him out of it. Just like he was afraid Mercedes may try to talk him out of it too. He’s not doing something insane. He’s not! “Ashe,” Dedue says. “Breathe.” 

Ashe can vividly remember when Dedue said that before. When he was hurt. It made him cry, then, but he’s not hurting now. He’s happy, really, he is. “I told her I wanted to share these recipes and she told me to keep the book and that if I fixed it up, I could stay in the house. This house--I’m staying here. I’m not going back to Fhirdiad with you, because all of those things I want to protect… I know I can do that right here.” 

“I see,” Dedue says. Ashe wonders if he actually does. He knows it sounds absurd, but the moment the idea crossed his mind Ashe knew this was right. This is his chance to be like those flowers. This is his method of adapting. He can make this the path he wants to walk. Dedue squeezes his hand again. “What will you do here?” 

“I think it can be an inn,” Ashe answers. Dedue nods his head and looks up to the ceiling. He’s probably thinking about the upper floor, and how there were several bedrooms and offices that could be used to house travelers. “One where people can stop when they’re tired or traveling and always be warm and well-fed.” 

“Comfort and food can create the most vivid memories. If your goal is to keep alive the fond memories we have of the past or create memories to carry on, doing so through food is natural.” Dedue looks at their hands this time. This is the part, Ashe realizes, where Dedue is playing catch up. Although they’ve been so close in the past few days, although Ashe can still feel Dedue’s head tucked against his neck under the stars when he closes his eyes, Dedue is realizing the same thing Ashe already has. Dedue belongs in Fhirdiad, with the king, and Fhirdiad is an entire day’s travel from here at best. He clears his throat. “I will let His Majesty know of your decision. I am certain he will agree that you’ve chosen a noble cause.” 

“Dedue…” Ashe doesn’t mean to whisper. He pulls his hands free from Dedue’s so he can stand on his toes and wrap his arms tightly around his shoulders instead. Strong, broad, thick shoulders and warm arms that curl up around Ashe’s waist to hug him close. 

“You are putting something good into this world,” Dedue says. “You do not have to explain yourself to me. I already understand.” 

Does he understand, really? Does he know how Ashe feels? He must, because hugging him like that Ashe thinks they might be sharing the same heartbeat.

…

The following morning Ashe packs up all of their belongings, except for his own. He insists he can hunt just fine, and there are mushrooms and berries and even some wild vegetables growing in an old garden out back, but until he can place a supply order Mercedes insists he keep some of their food supplies. They have plenty, she assures him. He knows they do. 

He feels oddly empty. The way he felt when he came back to the monastery after five years and saw all the rooms that were once bustling and full of loud students completely empty and hollow. This house isn’t hollow, though. It’s just waiting to tell a story. 

After he told Dedue, he told the others his plans to stay. No one made an ordeal of it. Mercedes offered to stay and help clean, but Ashe assured her he would be fine. Then she realized he planned on patching repairs on this house and she warned him not to overwork his arm. 

Once the cart is loaded and the horses are saddled up, Mercedes stands in front of Ashe with a tiny smile. “Maybe this town can be restored, too? It will be much more lively for you to have company around.” 

Ashe nods his head. “I hope more people will come here soon. I was looking at the well and I think it can be salvaged.” This used to be a whole town, with a market and homes. Why not again? She opens up her arms and pulls him into a gentle hug. 

“You’re going to do wonderful things here,” She says when she peels herself away. She steps back and smiles as bright as she can muster. “I can’t wait to come back and see it.” 

“You’ll always be welcome here.” 

She nods her head at him one last time before she turns to climb into the cart. That just leaves one last goodbye to be said. Ashe turns to look at Dedue and he’s pleasantly unsurprised to be wrapped up in a hug without a moment’s hesitation. 

“I’ll miss you,” Ashe says. He looks up at Dedue and before he can talk himself out of it he reaches up and pulls gently at the sides of his face. Dedue bends down to meet him in a short kiss. The way their lips meet is soft. It’s not electric or needy or anything like that. It’s just a gentle kiss that has been a long time coming. When it’s over Dedue leaves another soft kiss on the side of Ashe’s forehead on the way to stand back up straight. 

“I’ll visit,” Dedue says. Ashe’s eyes burn, but he keeps his smile in place and nods his head. Dedue turns to leave, with the rest of them. Ashe knows he’ll see him again soon. He knows Mercedes will come back after all, and he knows she’ll bring him with her. He knows they have a lot more to say to each other, and a lot more feelings to sort out. He knows they’ll find some way to balance the distance with the love. Even still, even though he knows it won’t be their last...

It’s funny, Ashe thinks almost bitterly, that their first kiss is a kiss goodbye.

…

_ Though the innocence of the Duscur people was proven, prejudice against them still lingered in the Kingdom capital. For this reason, Ashe refused a knighthood when it was offered to him, and chose instead to open an inn that specialized in Duscur cuisine. Dedue began to frequent the place on breaks from his duty as the king's vassal, and over time, imparted to Ashe his culinary wisdom. As the inn gained popularity, the people of the Kingdom began finally to see the Duscur people in a positive light. This led to a reconciliation between the two cultures that came rather more quickly than expected. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! Please follow me @dorkpatroller on twitter for future fic updates and to chat!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter @dorkpatroller for more updates!


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